


Aces Over Eights

by sian1359



Series: Vegas 'verse [2]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Drama, Episode Tag, Other, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-04 09:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sian1359/pseuds/sian1359
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>#2 in the Vegas 'Verse series. When Wild Bill lost his life at a Deadwood poker table he was holding a pair of aces and a pair of eights in his hand.  'Aces over eights' has since been known as the 'Dead Man's Hand.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aces Over Eights

**Author's Note:**

> For the SGA Flashfic Wish Fulfillment Challenge. To me this universe is much more rigid than the one we're used to seeing; certainly Rodney was much colder and harder. And so I've created a background for why, plus I've altered things for when I play here in the future with other stories. The lyrics Rodney thinks about are from Donovan's Atlantis. The summary is from on on-line site about Wild Bill Hickok.

What do you mean you can't find Sheppard?  He called us from there.  You have his car there.  Are you claiming he's now _walking_ back to the city?"  All too aware he was eagerly being observed, Rodney McKay still couldn't help the measure of sarcasm that laced his words.  No doubt he'd be blamed for this even though Sheppard had ultimately been Woolsey's and Homeworld's responsibility, not Atlantis' or even the SGC's. 

Why President Colson and Homeworld Secretary Hammond had thought someone like John Sheppard would be approachable by the 'FBI' …

Their idiocy simply boggled Rodney's mind; the only ones who would have been worse to send to try and bring Sheppard into the fold over Richard Woolsey would have been Defense Secretary Landry or the SGC's recruitment poster boy, Colonel Marshall Sumner. 

Colson and Hammond had been sure they could appeal to Sheppard's sense of duty and responsibility.  Woolsey, having no more imagination than that his boss, General George Hammond gave him, had gone by the book: get someone to sign a non-disclosure agreement before imparting any information _for the sake of National Security_.  Like that would be enough for someone as jaded and cynical as John Sheppard.

It wasn't as if Sheppard had failed his previous tests to become a Las Vegas police detective because he was stupid or uninterested.  The United States Air Force only made officers out of college graduates and didn't rely solely on book learning for those they made pilots.  Sheppard was smart enough and had been interested, just not enough invested in making it his second career.  The man was a loner, by inclination and by circumstance, needing no one and relying on no one.  Putting on a detective's badge meant taking on a partner or a team.  Something Sheppard didn't do any more, just like rules and authority figures. 

It was only when the new chief of detectives had agreed to let Sheppard go solo that Sheppard had bothered with passing the detective test, and even then it was only Sheppard's arrest rate that kept him employed given his attitude and weaknesses.  In reading between the lines of his performance reviews and Sheppard own filed reports, Rodney also discovered someone not only with a heightened sense of responsibility but a man with good instincts and a head for unconventional thinking, all certainly in evidence by the way Sheppard had managed to find the Wraith when the full resources of the SGC and Homeworld Security had basically failed.  Someone who really was the match of the John Sheppard he'd met in the other world. 

Rodney had to wonder if that had been the difference in that other world.  That _Lieutenant Colonel_ John Sheppard (still Air Force) had still had demons.  You only had to look at the way he watched his team -- at the way he had watched both Rodney and his own McKay -- to see that his life hadn't necessarily been easier than this one's.  Was the difference simply that that United States Air Force decided that their Sheppard was too good at whatever to just wash their hands of him as this one had?

The Peter Principle states that _In a Hierarchy Every Employee Tends to Rise to His Level of Incompetence._  But sometimes the exact opposite was true.  That a screw-up could become a leader if someone just believed in him.

It had been pretty damn easy to show that first measure of belief and so disclose the existence of the Stargate and of alien species in the universe despite Sheppard's refusal to be bound by Homeworld Security's policies.  Unfortunately because Rodney had gone that far, it also meant he had tacitly taken responsibility over what Sheppard was going to now do with that information.  Thus, his need to find his Sheppard and bring him in before the jackboots of their benevolent overlords, The Trust, got to him. 

Rodney had little doubt that the consortium comprised of international and inter_planetary _advisors would see John Sheppard as anything other than a pawn -- to either be controlled or destroyed.  They'd do anything to keep Sheppard from going public with what he'd learned and what he might have managed to get his hands on in the course of the alien turned serial killer investigation.  Kill him, lock him up, send him off-world, recruit him…

If that type of shit was going to happen anyway, Rodney would rather be the one putting on the pressure than one of their alien 'mentors'.  He, at least, knew it would be a waste to simply write Sheppard off.

Slamming down the phone, Rodney frowned at Woolsey.  "Could the Trust have moved that fast?"

It wasn't as if Woolsey had tried to hide that he'd been listening in on Rodney's discussion with the SGC's ground team.

Woolsey shook his head but his own thin-lipped frown negated any confidence Rodney might have found in his response.  "Not unless they have a direct tap in here…"

He and Rodney both turned their frowns toward the third of their temporary triumvirate of leadership, Radek Zelenka.

"No one who was involved in this Op." Radek didn't even look uncomfortable at the accusation.  "We know who _our_ Trust moles are here.  I made sure they were busy elsewhere.  But as for hooks into the Vegas police department?"

Rodney let his frown deepen.  "Tell me there are no Asgard or Tollan ships currently in orbit," he turned on the satellite operator.  Even they wouldn't go so far as to let an enemy that would give the Goa'uld or the Ori have nightmares get the coordinates for Earth!"

Wilson, Walter, Wynona … whatever name was attached to the Harriman on his uniform was, flinched at the attention suddenly directed his way.  He really was, after all, one of the operators responsible for deep space telemetry, that catch-all duty station that the Air Force claimed was the need behind the facility here at Stargate Command's Area 51 research base.  While the rest of the world thought he looked after near orbit space junk and the potential for extinction-level event objects coming to destroy the Earth, Airman Harriman's full job included keeping track of the ships in orbit; especially the ones The Trust neglected to mention were visiting.

"Currently only _Prometheus_, _Apollo_ and Teal'c's Ha'tak are on station at their L1 points.  The _Daedalus_ is currently on the way to Pegasus and Thor has taken the _Beliskner_ off somewhere overseeing some conflict.  No other craft but the Wraith's has been sighted or detected in the last four months coming into our system.  If any of The Trust observers are around, they've been on Earth since then.  Or they've found the workaround for yours and Colonel Carter's early warning antenna array system," he added with a mean little smile.

"Do we really care if Sheppard is in Lantash or Narim or even LaPierre's hands?" Woolsey asked before Rodney could call Harriman on his disrespect.  "You couldn’t convince General Landry or Colonel Chekov to authorize contact with him after the Quantum Mirror incident despite your glowing report on the other Sheppard, and this one has proven to be exactly what his former COs and current boss have reported.  Too much trouble despite what use his gene might be to the program.  Assuming he even has it."

"Oh, yes, too much trouble, while completing _our_ mission," Rodney snapped.  "Or did you forget we had _no_ line on the Wraith other than his victims, even after Detective Sheppard provided us with his eye witness account?  Too unreliable so we should just ignore that he called in a fucking air strike on his own head and not even say thank you.  Why in the hell would I have any use -- why we would have use for someone like that in SGC?"

Woolsey got that pinched look that was part disapproval and part discomfit that most everyone eventually did around Rodney.  Knowing Rodney was right, but unhappy at having it so eloquently pointed out.  Everyone else (other than Radek) were now hunched over like Walter, trying to appear busy and giving the illusion that they weren't listening to two of the people who could have them 'disappeared' for having heard their argument.  Radek, conversely, was now on the phone himself, talking to the commander at Nellis Rodney decided from what little he could overhear.

"And need I remind you, Richard," Rodney wasn't finished, "That O'Neill's ideas about running Stargate Command are quite different than Landry's, and that neither Chekov nor Shen Xiaoyi are running Atlantis any longer.  Atlantis is _mine_."  Just like Area 51 was Radek's and Antarctica was Sam's, the three of them split apart to insure the program would survive should there be an attack, the other two basically having been given carte blanche to their projects otherwise.  And now it was Rodney's turn, finally able to throw off his Trust/Russian/Chinese shackles.

"Isn't Elizabeth Weir taking over command of Atlantis?" Woolsey asked with false innocuousness and the same type of petty smile that was still on Harriman's face. 

Rodney felt the wolfish grin take over his face, not the response Woolsey was expecting, obviously.  Idiot.  Elizabeth Weir was a _diplomat_, not a politician.  And American to boot, as was the new military commander, the newly minted Cameron Mitchell (who had served as O'Neill's pilot and major domo for the last few years, so couldn't be as much of an ass as Sumner or Everett had been as Landry's lackeys).  Rodney had little doubt that Weir and Mitchell wouldn't bow to his expertise and experience while they tried to get up to speed about the differences between the SGC's role in the Milky Way and the way things were done in Pegasus.  By then Rodney would have been able to implement any number of changes.  Like bringing John Sheppard to Atlantis.

Assuming he could fucking find John goddamn Sheppard.

"Rodney, is it possible that Detective Sheppard died in the attack?" Radek muffled the end of his phone.  "As you said, the air strike was practically right on top of him.  Nellis claims that one of the A-10 pilots is reporting seeing two men moving near the trailer as the planes were finalizing their firing solution.  Your detective could have been caught up in the resultant fireball."

"That's what I obviously need to determine, since the team out there couldn't find their asses with their own hands," Rodney scowled.  "Woolsey, I want the Apollo overhead in ten minutes for a pick-up.  Radek, I should probably borrow Jennifer."

"I am coming too," Radek nodded.  "I will need to oversee the team's gathering of whatever pieces of alien tech might have survived the explosions.  One of us needs to make the determination of what can be passed onto the Trust and what Samantha and I can safely investigate, or whether it all needs to go back to Atlantis with you."

"I suppose I should start my report for President Coulson and General Hammond, not to mention come up with what we need to sanitize before passing a report on to The Trust."  Woolsey now looked resigned and it was Rodney's turn to be smug. 

"We may have dodged the bullet of invasion and full disclosure of the program this time," Woolsey continued, "but the Wraith _are_ still out there.  And now they have a missing ship to be looking for in addition to the fabled home of the Ancients."

"Yes, yes," Rodney waved Woolsey away.  "Earth is still their mythical Grey Havens or Avalon, _their_ lost Atlantis --"

"Their Happy Hunting Grounds."

"Oh shut up, Radek."

 

******

 

After spending another week Rodney couldn't really afford to be away from Atlantis and his projects stuck cleaning up the Wraith mess on Earth, he was finally home.  He still hadn't found any sign of John Sheppard by the time he and his team had gated away.  All their on site investigation had shown was evidence of a significant amount of human blood spilled far enough away from the remains of the Wraith's trailer that they could confirm Sheppard hadn't been caught up in it.  Well, not unless Sheppard had run back into the blaze afterward to commit suicide, though Jennifer hadn't been sure Sheppard had been in any shape to run anywhere.  Ronon had found evidence of both the Wraith and Sheppard running, but both only back to their respective vehicles, not all the way toward one another.  Probably both looking to get away when the planes had come screaming in.  So Sheppard would have had to be able to fly -- or to teleport, meaning Rodney's trail no longer existed.

Woolsey had eventually reported back that he was sure The Trust didn't have him despite the teleport angle.  There been no ship with Asgard beaming technology in orbit over Nevada who could have taken him at the time of Sheppard's disappearance.  Plus Paul Davis, Woolsey's inside man, wasn't reporting any indications of a brewing power play of the type that would have resulted had either the Tollan or the Tok'ra gotten a hold of someone they could use to wrest away Earth's control of Ancient tech. 

Earth's only way of leveling the playing field against the so-called Elders of the galaxy was in their relative preponderance of ATA gene holders.  Meaning they got to play with most of the Ancient tech first and could chose what to pass on as either information or items.  Meaning that preponderance was defined as one person in a few hundred million _Tau'ri_ having the gene, while it was one in several hundred _billion_ in the other races. 

Not that the Tollan or the Tok'ra had agreed to that arrangement, but since the Ancients had resettled on Earth and not Tollana, Selenis or even Malkshur, it wasn't like they found much of anyway despite their searches, and whatever they were hording, they hadn't found anyone with enough of an expression of the gene to make anything useful work.  Of course, given that the Ori were all too happy to wipe out any race they couldn't convert, even if that world didn't have Ancient ancestors, Rodney could understand why the Tollan especially were pissed at having to work with the upstart _Tau'ri_ for protection.

Even the rockstars of SG1 hadn't been able to find anything more regarding Sheppard after Sam had decided Sumner's team could do the job better than Rodney's.  Sumner had agreed that someone who'd had a trunk full of off-the-grid money wasn't a likely suicide candidate, but given the Colonel's antagonism the minute he'd heard details on who they were searching for, Rodney couldn't be sure Sumner had given a damn about doing the investigation despite the hit SG1's (and Sam's) reputation would take for their failure. 

It was Vala who'd finally suggested the most likely answer, even if she was mainly trying to convince Rodney it was time for them to get back to Atlantis.  Even if the team was on stand down until they picked a replacement for their military guy now that Chekov was out and Captain Ford was looking at rotating Earthside for while to help take care of his family. 

_If this John Sheppard is indeed a Child of the Ancestors, isn't it likely he ascended?_

Given no other logical explanation, Rodney had finally agreed.  And agreed to take the remains of his team home.  Ascension was the ultimate goal of the Ancients, after all; their all too easy escape from the ills they had wrought while they'd still been active participants in their material existence.

Sheppard ascending made sense, especially if his involvement had been another cheat for the Ascended, like Daniel Jackson death and resurrection had been Oma and Morgan's way of helping those left behind, or the way Orlin had worked with Sam to bring Janet back to life despite the ultimate consequences.  Certainly Chaya and Janus had not abandoned Atlantis and their corporeal life as willingly as the rest of their brethren had.  Plus, the Wraith were just as much a scourge to the Pegasus Galaxy as the Go'ould had been to the Milky Way -- like the Replicators and Ori still were.

Being home as well as having a logical explanation to Sheppard's disappearance at least allowed Rodney to sleep at night.  Even if some of his dreams were filled with thoughts of what might have been.  And even if it wasn’t just Sheppard's _gene_ figuring into those might have beens.

"Doctor McKay, please, you are going to be late for Morning Staff." 

Just because Shen was gone, didn't mean the daily briefing was no longer a Thing Of Import, as Miko was all to eager to remind him.  She and Peter Grodin had filled his shoes while he'd been on Earth and Rodney was more than tempted to keep things going in that direction, except with Elizabeth Weir and Mitchell now in place running the administrative and military aspects of Atlantis, Rodney needed to spend at least some time preparing them to the way things needed to be done. 

Rodney hadn't had too much trouble with the previous administration; he was used to working with bureaucracies and international oversight people that had very _national_ agendas and had perfected a personality that pretty much assured he'd be left alone to work on his projects.  The Americans finally getting a chance to play in Atlantis wouldn't guarantee things to be any less jingoistic but at least the accents and frames of references would be easier to interpret.  Plus Atlantis had a way of taking people as its own, and those who didn't -- couldn't -- adapt didn't tend to stay very long.

"Today is Doctor Beckett's presentation on his gene therapy to alter the Iratus DNA in the Wraith." 

Ah, yes, the change the Wraith back to human plan.  No wonder Miko wanted to make sure Rodney was there.

"Doctor Grodin is counting on you to help support his intent to block the implementation," Miko stayed on Rodney's heels as he left the lab for the control room. 

Rodney accepted the cup of coffee she held for him and let Atlantis fill his thoughts as they walked instead of paying any further attention to her harmless bid for his affection.  Whatever the final outcome in the war with the Wraith with the Ori or the Asurans, Atlantis was his pinnacle as much as it had ever been the Ancient's.  If he never made it back to Earth again he couldn’t count himself sorrowed.  He was the one unlocking her long-held secrets, and he could easily spend the rest of his life doing so. 

Sure Sam and Radek both had families to go home to after spending the day immersed in their own epic research.  They had lovers and children and small suburban homes they drove home to most every night, along with mortgages, car payments and recessions.  And a world shrouded in secrecy.

Well, Rodney had a family too.  He had Vala and Ronon, had even Carson, Peter and Miko.  More importantly, he had Atlantis herself, and she was more than enough for any one man. 

If he had any regret, it wasn't about not being recognized as the leader that Sam had become or the innovator Radek had turned into.  The two of them had stalled in their career -- and as people -- as far as Rodney was concerned.  They were little more than figureheads -- mouthpieces and prisoners trapped by the politics of their own success and their willingness to acquiesce to the exigencies of alien and international oversight. 

He didn't even regret his lack of a Nobel (though the recognition would be nice), since the work he was doing now was literally light years beyond what anyone else on Earth was doing in his field.  He didn't really even regret being estranged from Jeanie as it was obvious she was surviving quite well without her big brother and he'd likely only fuck up a renewed relationship with her anyway. 

Not even the potential of losing _Earth_ was something Rodney lamented regularly.  He'd come to terms with that scenario more times than he liked to count thanks to aliens like the Go'ould, the Aschen and the Tollan.  He done what he could each time of crisis to see Earth through, and while he certainly didn't want to see the end of his own people, while he knew that intellectually he'd ache for the loss, every time he returned to Atlantis he was prepared -- eager -- to never worry about Earth again.

No, his one, simple regret was that not even his team truly understood the importance and the extraordinariness that was Atlantis.  That he had no one to share the purity of her maths and science or the beauty and wonder of her design.  To everyone else she was just a city. Or a weapon.  Or the beacon of hope of hundreds of civilizations.  To Rodney, though, she was his Holy Grail, his Arc of the Covenant and yes, even his Pandora's Box.

As he and Miko stepped out of the transporter, Rodney took the steps to the edge of the gallery overlooking the Stargate, leaving the others to await his arrival for just a few moments longer.  The gate was such a magnificent piece of engineering and technology, only to be outshone by Atlantis herself.  They'd been so damn lucky to have found the gate system, the translations and this address…to actually have found_ the lost city of __Atlantis_. 

_On board were the Twelve:  
 The poet, the physician, the farmer, the scientist,  
 The magician and the other so-called Gods of our legends.   
Though Gods they were --  
And as the elders of our time choose to remain blind  
Let us rejoice and let us sing and dance and ring in the new  
Hail Atlantis!_

An abrupt bright flash of light eclipsed the gate.  Cadman's security teams moved immediately, the woman herself joining in as Amelia signaled the alarm.  Elizabeth Weir came out of the conference room with Mitchell on her heels, joining Rodney at the overlook as did Carson, Peter and whoever else had been intent on sitting in on Morning Staff.  By the time light faded and Rodney's eyesight was restored, the only change in the room was a man.  A naked man, specifically the curled and naked body of one Detective John Sheppard, lying beneath the Stargate like an offering.

Rodney smiled.

 

\-- finis --


End file.
